Moving on
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Someone I met recently asked me what love meant to me. I wasn’t quite sure how to answer. Of course I know what love is. I just didn’t know how to put it into words. For the last few months I have made myself fairly numb to anything that makes me rely on others, and…
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I have previously talked about how I want to be intentional in dating. How I want to care for someone and have someone care for me. I still want that. I don’t think the wanting ever stopped, only my ability to act on it did. Since my last breakup, I have been on a few…
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I am doing well. Quietly. Steadily. There is acceptance. There is a thin thread of hope. There is adventure of a sort. The path that brought me here was not clean. I cut the relationships that kept the grief looping and refused to let me leave. That part is finished. To stay in motion I…
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I wrote one final message to her. Not out of desperation, not to win her back, not even because the silence had become too loud. I wrote it because some things need to be said — not for the other person, but so your own heart can finally exhale. The message was sent months ago,…
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There is a bench next to a pond I often sit at before ending my day. It’s quiet, secluded, peaceful. Sometimes I wish you were next to me. Sometimes I think about us. Sometimes it feels empty. And sometimes the same question returns like an old friend who never learned to leave: Do I miss…
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A quiet lament written in the immediate aftermath of letting go – when the world still carries your warmth, but it is no longer for me.
